Solar Midnight: A Jacob Black Story
by PastTheStarsAndBoulevards
Summary: Everything is destined, or so 21-year-old Jacob Black is beginning to learn after receiving a care package from someone he's never met. Two futures intertwined, how will it all unfold? Summary sucks. Just read it! AU and OC!
1. Chapter 1: Gifts For GIs&Letters

**So, this has been sitting here for two years.**

**And I have finally revisited it. **

**It's been haunting my thoughts daily...so I came back, re-read it, edited it and I'm going to post and finish it.**

**I can't handle it being in my head anymore!**

**So...please, enjoy.**

I dreamt of him again. I dreamt of strong arms, and scorching skin, beautiful skin that was a deep russet color, the most beautiful color I'd ever seen. His face wasn't clear, it never was and his voice was muffled, as if I were underwater while he spoke. I had no idea who he was, but somehow, he was still beautiful beyond words.

I sighed, pushing these thoughts from my head as I stirred the eggs in the pan, glancing at the stairs as my father walked down them slowly, texting away on his PDA.

"Morning daddy," I smiled, walking over to him as he entered the kitchen, kissing his cheek. It was a morning ritual.

"Morning darling. Eggbeaters this morning?" He asked, smiling warmly, not looking up from his phone as he sat down at our kitchen table.

"Yes, not much time. I have to be at the high school at 8:25 to give a presentation about the holiday donation drive for the troops and I have English at 9:30 today." I sighed, pouring the steaming eggs onto a plate, sitting it down in front of him.

"I'm proud of you, Livvi. Don't let your old man keep you, I can clean up. I'll be late tonight, a client wants me to revise their final blueprints." My father lifted his fork as he glanced at me, smiling at me, "Love you, drive safe."

"Love you too, daddy. Don't add salt to those eggs, I know what the doctor said about your cholesterol." I pointed my finger at my father menacingly as I grinned, grabbing my car keys from beside the stove as I jogged out of the kitchen and through the living room.

I slid into my car, the engine purring to life as I turned the key in the ignition. I backed out of my driveway smoothly, shifting into drive, driving to the end of my road.

Traffic wasn't too bad as I drove to my old high school, Chaminade-Madonna College Preparatory, a private Catholic school. Even though I wasn't a practicing Catholic, my father refused to send me to any public school in North Miami. My graduating class had 167 students, and all of us had a 3.0 or higher. I was proud of that.

I parked in the teacher/visitor parking lot, feeling odd as I grabbed the CD with my presentation, slamming my car door.

I walked into the front office, signing in as a visitor, getting my pass.

"Olivia Patavonio?" A soft voice asked, and I glanced up as I stuck the sticker to my shirt, a wide grin spreading across my lips.

"Mrs. Dawson!" I exclaimed, and my English teacher grinned back, opening her arms to me.

I hugged her, still grinning, "I am so glad I get to see you, how are you? How are the classes going this year?" I asked as we started walking toward the auditorium together, her hand resting on my arm.

"I'm good, Livvi, I'm good. Thank you for asking. They're going well, all the students are so bright, I'm so glad that God chose teaching here for me. How are you? So, you're our big speaker today?" Mrs. Dawson smiled at me, genuine.

I nod as we turn, "I'm well, Mrs. Dawson. Yes, I'm trying to get some care packages and donations for Thanksgiving and Christmas for the troops for my father's organization. I was hoping that some of the clubs here could pick it up and spread the word. CMCP always was generous when it came to non-profit organizations."

"I'm so glad to see you out there doing Jesus' work, Livvi, it makes me feel so proud that you learned a little something here besides English and math." Mrs. Dawson patted my arm gently, still smiling.

The rest of the walk to the auditorium was in comfortable silence, not that I minded. I was shaking inside, butterflies flapping all around my stomach. I was nervous, I was always nervous before speaking in front of a crowd, no matter how big it was.

Mrs. Dawson held open the door to the familiar auditorium for me, and I smiled lightly as I walked through the doors. The room was large, and filled with the chatter of the hundreds of students, happy to be out of class or away from the chapel for a moment. I remembered, seminars and guest speakers were always my favorite time, too.

I walked on to the stage, handing my CD to the tech-lab intern, waiting beside her patiently as she loaded my presentation. As I was waiting, she clipped a little microphone onto my blouse, smiling politely before handing me a little remote to the projector. She gave me a single nod, and I exhaled.

_Just like you practiced at home._

I put a smile on my face as I turned to face the now silent crowd that was full of my past teachers, and once peers, hoping my face was looked cool, calm and collected and not a hot mess.

I clicked a button on the remote, the sound of American Solider by Toby Keith started to play in the background, as pictures of troops started to flash across the screen, the title of song passing across the screen in a red script.

I waited a moment, before taking a deep breath, finally starting to speak as Toby Keith started to sing. "My name is Olivia Patavonio, I was in the graduating class of 2008, and I was the salutatorian. I attend Johnson and Wales University in North Miami. I'm a sophomore there, I'm majoring in Baking and Pastry Arts with a minor in business management. I take mostly honors courses, thanks to my GPA in high school. I chose this because of my passion for cooking, even though there were thousands of other better things I could be doing.

"In my spare time I'm studying at the library, at home trying out new recipes or hanging out with friends. I volunteer for community and church projects and I help tutor junior high students that are struggling with their studies. Most Sundays you can find me at church, listening to the priest and receiving the blood and body of Christ. Every day, I thank God for the fact that I am alive, and that I can do these things without having to fear for my life. I thank God for giving us our troops, for giving us our freedom."

I stopped, letting the lyrics of the song fill my silence, and the pictures flash across the screen, hoping to get my point across.

_You can bet that I stand ready when the wolf growls at the door;  
Yeah, I'm solid;  
Yeah, I'm steady;  
Yeah, I'm true down to the core._

_And I will always do my duty;  
No matter what the price.  
I've counted up the cost;  
I know the sacrifice.  
And oh, I don't want to die for you;  
But if dying's ask me,  
I'll bear that cross with honor;  
'Cause freedom don't come free._

_I'm an American soldier;  
An American.  
Beside my brothers and my sisters;  
I will proudly take a stand.  
When liberty's in jeopardy;  
I will always do what's right.  
I'm out here on the front lines;  
So sleep in peace tonight.  
American solider;  
I'm an American soldier._

The music faded out, and a quiet murmur spread across the auditorium. I smiled to myself, maybe I was doing good…or maybe this was going horribly.

"For all of you that have never heard that song, it's American Solider by Toby Keith. Those were photos that my father's organization, Gifts for G.I.'s, gathered on trips to Iraq and Afghanistan to deliver their donations to our troops. Gifts for G.I.'s is a non-profit organization that sends care packages, medical supplies, Blankets of Hope, among other things to our troops.

"My father is a retired Gunnery Sergeant. It took him almost 15 years to earn that rank. I was 12 years old when he was promoted; I was 13 when he retired. We moved down here to Hollywood, and he became an architect, but I never forgot the reason why you and I are where we are, and I never forgot the reason why we live in a free country.

"Being an ex-Marine brat, I lived on various military bases with my father. Luckily enough for me, he only toured once, when I was too young to understand, and he wasn't hurt. I never had a place to really call home, I never really had close friends, that is why I stand in front of you today," I clicked the remote, Gift's for G.I.'s flashing onto the screen in bold print, "to tell you about Gift's for G.I.'s. "

"They don't have their spouses to talk to every night before bed. Some of our troops don't even get to see their children take their first steps, or say their first words. Our troops eat M.R.E.s, and for those of you lucky who don't know what those are, it's a meal ready to eat. They don't get the luxuries we get, and sometimes, they don't even get the thanks they deserve."

There were pictures flashing across the screen of fallen soldiers, and pictures of their families, Come Home Soon by Shedaisy playing quietly as photos started to flash across the screen, this time of fallen soldiers. The song fades out, Bumper of my SUV by Chely Wright flowing in easily, filling the spaces it left.

"They risk their lives for us, for people they don't even know. They risk their lives so we can have freedom of speech, so we can worship God, and Jesus Christ. They give us the American dream, and some of them lose their life fighting for it." I took a breath, clicking the button again, the music still playing as a list of things showed up on the screen. "I'm here to ask you to donate, whatever you can to Gifts for G.I.'s. New clothing, books, magazines, snacks, Tylenol, bug spray, suntan lotion, personal hygiene items, or your own care package for a solider you choose to adopt."

"Right now, I'd like if the teachers would start handing out the packets that were already prepared. Inside, you'll find a list of items you can donate that was just on the screen, things that are usually found in the common care-package. There is also a list of medical supplies that we accept, and there are a list of soldiers that are up for "adoption". When you adopt a soldier, you can be their pen pal, either regular mail or e-mail, whichever you chose. You can send them care packages on your own, or through Gifts of G.I.'s. I hope you spread word, and you help us this year. We also accept volunteer work that CMCP accepts when you need to fill your time quota for volunteering. In the packet, there is a list of numbers to contact if you'd like to volunteer, or donate money to. To get your items donated or have your care packages sent, there are a list of teachers that will have collect boxes in their rooms until December 10th."

I stopped, a smile on my face as I exhaled, clicking the remote. The screen went black and loud applause spread across the room. I must not have done too horribly after all.

"Thank you, Ms. Patavonio for that wonderful presentation on Gifts for G.I.'s that I urge all of you to donate to." Ms. Ramos, the principal was next to me in a moment, a large smile on her face as she shook my hand firmly, glancing at the student body, "Are there any questions for Ms. Patavonio?"

I sighed as I watched a line form, realizing this was part of public speaking, not that I minded.

I smiled as I glanced at the small girl with glasses that had been in line first, nodding, "What's your name and question?" I asked, polite as she started to talk.

_**Early October 2011**_

Jacob was tired, and worn out, but there was nothing new to that. It was a constant state for him, one in which he could function quite well.

His old bunk was a welcomed change from the thin sleeping bag he'd been using for the past three weeks on assignment, but then again, he was used to that, too. It was what he'd signed up for, right?

As he walked into the barracks, still using a towel to dry his hair, his face lit up. There were three envelopes on his bunk that hadn't been there when he'd left to get a shower.

"Brought them in when I got mine Jake, figured you'd want them," Liam announced from his bunk, reading his own letters.

"Thanks." Jacob said, not forgetting his manners as he sat down on his bunk, dropping the towel next to him.

He smiled as he ran his fingers over Bella's familiar scrawl, ripping open the envelope hurriedly.

_Dear Jacob, September 19, 2011_

_How are you? I miss you. UW is going good. I had mid-terms last week, which I passed thankfully. Charlie's well, he said to tell you hello._

_I made it back last weekend for my birthday to see my dad, and we went up to La Push to celebrate. I saw your dad and sisters._

_Billy says you're not writing anyone, so I don't take your slow responses as personal anymore. What are you doing over there? I hope it's not too dangerous. I worry about you, you know. Drop me a line, I got a new e-mail address if you can get your hands on a computer._

_I miss seeing you, Jake, wish you well. Stay safe._

_Bella_

Jacob ran his eyes over her writing a few times, inhaling. It smelled like her, it smelled like the home he'd left behind. He folded the letter up carefully, moving to the next. It was a large manila envelope from Rachel, one of his sisters. He pulled out the paper and pictures, reading the letter first.

_Little brother, September 10, 2010_

_Dad's good, he's been spending a lot of time with his new lady friend Beth. She's nice. She wants to meet you. Dad says hi. Please write him, Jake, he worries about you. Truth told, so do Becca and I._

_How does Uncle Jake sound to you?! Becca's pregnant now, six months along to be exactly. She finally came to see dad. She's so cute with her little belly, well, it's actually not so little. It's twins, two boys. She doesn't have any names picked out, she says they'll come to her at the right time. She's staying here with Josh until they're born. She still can't cook. I'm so glad they're here, Jake. I wish you were here, too. I hate that you can't be right now._

_I'm dating Paul now. His advances were too much to resist. He's nice. Well, you would know…you are one of his best friends. He told me to send you greetings. Sometimes he is a dork. Before you get all brotherly on me, Jake, he's not going to hurt me. He knows you and dad would murder him._

_I've been spending my time cooking for dad, Becca, Josh, Paul and his friends. (Quil and Embry included. They told me to tell you hi, too! So did Paul and Sam. We all miss you!) He has an older friend, Sam (the guy that was discharged from USMC for medical reasons) who has the nicest fiancé ever, Emily. I think you know of her or at least heard about her; she's the one that got mauled by the bear right before you left. Anyway, I've been spending some time with her, too. I get to be a bridesmaid in the wedding with Leah Clearwater!_

_I finished school early. I wish you could have been at the graduation. I sent pictures. I sent one of Bella that I had found, I figured you'd might enjoy that._

_Jake, please write me. More importantly, please write dad. We all miss you, especially Dad. I love you, little brother. I'm so proud of the man you've become. Yes, I have to tell you in __**every **__letter). You should have heard the way I bragged to all my friends after you left from your last R&R. I think you might have a few dates lined up when you get back. Yes, you can thank me now!_

_I love you. Stay safe, baby brother. You're always in my thoughts and prayers._

_Love ya,  
Rachel_

Jake smiled, folding his sister's letter up, putting it back into the envelope before going through the pictures. There were 12 photos of his family, 6 at Rachel's graduation, the rest at his old home. He stared at the photo of his dad, sisters and Josh, a wave of sadness washing over him. He'd missed more important events. He quickly pushed the sadness away, no regrets.

He went through the rest of the pictures. There were pictures of his friends, Quil, Embry and Paul. They all looked…different. Larger would be more appropriate word. Had that much changed since he'd left? He seemed to miss so much.

He sighed, shuffling to the last picture, running his fingers over Bella's familiar features. He smiled to himself, stuffing the pictures into the manila envelope, leaving Bella's picture out.

He put the envelope down next to Bella's, lifting the last one, it was from his dad. Jacob took his time opening it, taking a deep breath as he unfolded the letter. It was only a week old.

_Son, September 24, 2011_

_How are you? I'm fine, can't complain. Becca and Josh are here, but I know Rachel already told you that._

_I've been spending time with Charlie on the weekends (not like that's shocking), along with Sue. Her and Charlie fit together good, Harry would be happy. I met one of Sue's friends, her name is Beth. I know Rachel already told you about her to, even if she didn't say anything to me. I know she was bound to. Don't jump to conclusions, son. Beth isn't a replacement for your mother in any way. It's just nice to have the companionship of a woman, I know you can understand this._

_Becca's taking it a little rough, but that's understandable. She's warming up to Beth, I'll give her credit. She took your mom's death the hardest. Rachel, however, could not be happier. She keeps inviting Beth over for dinner, or any other excuse she can find. I can't wait for her to meet you, Jake. She's heard a lot about you, she's excited._

_Bella and Charlie came up for Bella's birthday last Saturday. She's still the same old Bella that you remember, trust me, still as clumsy and hard-headed as ever. She misses you, Jake. We all do. It's not the same without you._

_You'd think after two years I'd grow used to the fact that you were serving our country, but I haven't. I still remember you as a little boy, I still remember you as my son. It's hard to except that you're a grown adult, and that you don't need your old man the way you used to. I love you, Jacob, and I am so very proud of you. I wish I could explain to you how proud, but you will never be able to understand until you have a child of your own. You mother would be proud of you. I feel as your father, I have to tell you this, because she can't. Always remember that if you remember nothing else, remember how much we both love you, and how proud we both are. You've become a better man than me, you've granted every hope and prayer I had, son._

_The girls may be here, but you aren't. Wish you were here, the house isn't complete. I hope to see you soon, hope to hear from you even sooner. Stay safe, son._

_Dad_

_P.S.: You don't have to write me back if you don't want to. I know Bella and Rachel brought it up to you. Woman worry too much._

Jacob laughed at the last line, shaking his head. His dad was still the same, and he was glad. He reached under his bunk, grabbing the pad of paper and pen he kept there. He opened to a blank page, pulling the pen off the cap, starting the response to his father.


	2. Chapter 2: Nightmares

Classes dragged, and I was ready to go home by the time classes were over. Thank God for free Friday's, perks of J&W, and the approaching holidays.

As I drove home, I made a mental list to write down when I got home. I had to prepare my Thanksgiving care package for the Marine I was adopting. His name was Jacob Black, and he was 20 year old from La Grove, Washington or some where far away like that. They all blurred, every year it seemed.

I was also making a list of ingredients I had a home for dinner. I was planning on making _French Gougères_, chicken francaise with artichoke hearts, and chocolate cream pie for dessert, three of my father's favorite things. He was spoiled when it came to food. Not only could he cook, but so could I. Not everyone is so lucky.

I pulled into my driveway, grabbing my bag as I shut my car off, stepping into the muggy heat. So much for seasons in Florida. I was humming to myself as I grabbed the mail, walking toward the front door. There was a bunch of ads, and things for my dad. Nothing for me, as usual. I sighed, shoving my key into the doorknob.

I always checked the mail, always looking for something for me. There never was anything for me. Secretly, I knew what I was hoping for, something from my mother. It never happened, not even a birthday card. A girl could dream, couldn't she?

I dropped the mail on the kitchen table with my car keys, leaving my bag on a chair as I walked into the pantry, leaving every thought I had behind me.

That was the beauty of cooking, I didn't think about anything except what I was cooking, and how I was going to improve it. I spent a lot of things thinking about how to make things better, how maybe a little sage would complete it, or maybe a little more butter. You couldn't go wrong with butter, or cream, and all their artery-clogging goodness.

I grabbed the flour, olive oil, sugar and cornstarch, leaving them on the counter as I opened the spice cabinet, grabbing what I was in the mood for, but for once, my mind was elsewhere.

It was on Jacob Black, as I wondered who he was, what he was like, what he looked like. I did this every year, before Thanksgiving and Christmas. I'd always sent a carepackage and letters, letters that never got answered. More mail I always looked for, more mail that never came. It made me unhappy, that these soldiers never responded to my letters, that they never thanked me. I know they were thankful for the package, but it hurt my feelings that they forgot their manners. I hoped Jacob Black would write back, just one simple thank you, and I'd be happy. My purpose would be worth it.

I smiled as I thought of this, walking over to the fridge, finally able to focus on cooking. I gathered the rest of the ingredients I would need, lining them all up on the counter, starting with the chocolate cream pie first.

By the time I was done with the pie, I ended up digging my iPod out of my bag and plugging it into the dock that was mounted onto the wall. The sound of Michael Buble filled the kitchen, and I sang along to Save The Last Dance For Me.

I danced back over to the counter, my lips moving along with the song as I started the chicken francaise. I finished dinner by 6:15, and I was thrilled.

I showered slowly, taking the time to wash my hair, and to wash away the day. It'd been a long week, I was ready for some recuperation.

I dried off and got dressed in my pajamas, disappearing back downstairs to eat dinner alone. My father had called earlier this afternoon about working late, after apologizing profusely. Dinner was our thing, always sort of had been. I didn't mind though, instead, I brought my laptop with me to the table, and tried to focus on writing my letter to Jacob. I felt...inspired, even though the none of the words I wrote didn't seem to sound right.

I sighed, shutting my laptop, shaking my head as I finished my dinner. I put the left-overs away before putting the dishes into the dishwasher. I decided on a slice of pie and walked into the living room. I sat down on the couch, turning the TV on as I took a bite of pie. I flipped through the channels, but found nothing. I pulled up the DVR and decided to watch one of the episodes of American Horror Story that I had missed.

After sitting through two hours of the gruesome show, I took my plate to the kitchen to wash it. It was already a little after nine, and I decided I was going to go to my room. I left a note for my father on the counter, disappearing to my bedroom.

I curled up in bed with _Things I Want My Daughters To Know _by Elizabeth Noble. I smiled contentedly as I opened the book to chapter seven, my eyes scanning across the page hungrily. When I was another 20 pages in, I felt the urge to write, to just grab a piece of paper and to write. I sighed, trying to push the urge away as I read a few more pages, finally unable to focus.

The words were eating at me, and I huffed as I stood up from my bed. I grabbed my notebook, opening it to the first empty page.

It started with _Dear Jacob_, and my hand flew. It flew across the paper like wildfire spread through dried brush. My hand ached as the words poured, surprising me.

I felt such a…draw to this Jacob character, even though I didn't know anything about him. I knew I was just drawn to words from a piece of paper: "Jacob Black, 20 years of age, Marine, E-4." Maybe it was just his name. It had reminded me of Joe Black, and Jack Black.

I laughed at my own observation, thinking of Death with the humor of Jack Black. I shook my head as I shut my notebook crawling back under the covers. I shut off my lamp, closing my eyes, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

_I was walking, wondering, through foggy darkness. I glanced around me, my visibility shrouded. I knew this had been a bad night for this._

_It was cold and the ground beneath my boots was hard._

_"Do you copy?" The voice said in my ear, I growled, ignoring it._

_The metal of the gun was cold between my fingers, my grip tightening._

_I could hear them, their feet shuffling against the dirt of the desert, their voices hushed._

Not this time.

_My vision clouded, anger pulsing through me as I got a clear view of them, the night vision of my goggles registering their every movement._

_They had no idea._

_I pulled the gun up, releasing the safety as I made sure the silencer on my rifle was in place._

_"Black mamba to Undertaker, code 6." My voice was harsh, rough. It wasn't my voice._

_My finger went to the trigger, my lips moving, no words escaping._

_I couldn't hear as the rifle kicked back, rounds firing quicker than I could think. I shut the world out._

_A force hit me, tearing through my left shoulder, but still, I gripped the gun, watching as a bullet met every target._

_I watched as they fell, trying to block out the pain, but I couldn't anymore._

_I was gasping for air, I couldn't breathe._

_I'd felt pain before, but nothing like this. This was different, this set every nerve ending in my body on fire._

_Then she was there, as my surroundings started to fade to darkness, her eyes glowing intently, watching me, a sick smile on her lips. Her white teeth were gleaming._

_She was so familiar, I knew her. Who was she?_

_"Olivia," Her voice was too sweet, sickeningly sweet, I felt the vomit crawl up my throat, "Livvi,"_

_I was going to be sick._

"Livvi, Livvi baby, come on," This voice was urgent, but gentle.

Sleep faded fast, and my eyes flew open.

I was in my bedroom, I was safe. It was a just dream.

I collapsed back down on the pillows as I gasped, inhaling the air as my heart raced. I was sweaty, even though my bedroom was freezing.

"Are you okay?" My father's voice was worried as he stared down at me from the spot he was sitting in next to me.

I nodded, my fingers tracing over my shoulder, the fading phantom pains still lingering.

"I had a very vivid dream." I whispered, my voice hoarse.

They were getting more and more so, these dreams.

He reached out, smoothing my hair, "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head, "I don't remember it."

I lied, closing my eyes.

Truth was, I was hoping to forget it.

"I'll make you some tea." My father smiled weakly, getting up from my bed.

I smiled as he left, leaving the door open. Tea was my father's answer for terrible colds that kept me up until the butt-crack of dawn and nightmares, it always had been.

I shoved the covers off, following him down the stairs quietly.


	3. Chapter 3: Reality

**I've been away from this, far too long.**

**Reading and writing.**

**I've had so much going on in my life, some good, some bad, but it reminded me that I needed my outlet back.**

**This is my outlet, writing.**

**So, I revised this and I've written 2 1/2 new chapters!**

**I'm going to try and stay dedicated and get this story out of me;**

**It's been in my veins for over two years and it's time that I let it out.**

**I hope you enjoy it, if I still have an readers.**

**xx**

**PS: I'm sorry if you find my story slightly...cliche. Possibly. But it's my baby, so be kind.**

* * *

"Shit, Jake," The voice was real, in his ear, not from a mic.

_Shit's right._

Arms were wrapped around Jacob, but all he could feel was the pain that had ignited like a fire in his shoulder, spreading outward. He'd been shot.

He was being carried, he didn't know by who, or to where. He couldn't careless either way really. He was cold, freezing, and his whole body ached. He just wanted to go to sleep, he just wanted the pain to go away.

It was all a blur, faces, voices, lights, darkness. Jacob couldn't get a grip on reality, and he was fading in and out like a bad frequency.

The ride was bumpy, and he groaned with every sharp pain that shot out from his shoulder to the tips of his toes.

_Fuck._

He gritted his teeth, letting the darkness finally win.

There was a sudden whir of loud voices, blaring machine beeps and bright lights. His head hurt.

_Shut up._

More hands grabbed for him, cutting his uniform off his body, dropping his equipment onto the floor hastily.

_My gun._

His thoughts were jumbled, he growled.

Fingers caressed him, roughly, checking him over. They seemed to linger on his shoulder, but luckily they were cold and gentle as they prodded.

"Vitals could be better, doc. Temp is 100.9 and rising. Blood pressure is steadily dropping, and his heart's racing. We need to get the bullet out, he's already lost too much blood."

Jacob tried to wrap his head around what he heard, he'd lost blood? He'd been shot? He didn't remember. He remembered the mission, he was to take out another one of the important men, he couldn't remember a name. There had been so many important men to deal with…

He remembered Lewis calling him over radio, and he didn't answer. He remembered hitting every mark, but he didn't remember being shot.

Was that even possible?

"Son of a bitch!" He yelled, as someone gouged into the gunshot wound, his body jerking upward. That had pulled him to reality.

He'd certainly been shot.

Jacob's eyes flew open as he glanced around, blinded by the white of the lights. He was on a metal table, in some room, and there were people surrounding him, staring at him.

He wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn't. He groaned, attempting to push the hand away from his shoulder, failing. The strength he had left was fleeting.

"Can we get some sedatives?" A woman yelled out, still poking the wound, cleaning it.

The needle broke the skin in his forearm, and Jake fell back on the table, the world swimming before his eyes.

_"You're leaving?" Bella whispered, staring up at him, "I didn't think it would be so soon."_

_"Oh, come on Bells, it's just training. I might fail, you never know. You won't miss me, much, you'll be studying away at UW." Jake replied, punching her playfully in her shoulder._

_"I'll worry, you know I'll worry, every second you're away, every second you're deployed. Promise you'll write me," She stopped him suddenly, grabbing his arm, her fingers feverish against his flesh._

_He turned to face her, staring down into her brown eyes. Oh, how he'd miss those eyes._

_"I promise Bella, you know I will." He pulled her into a hug, cradling her body against his, his chin on the top of her head._

_She held him, tighter than he remembered, closer. She held him…differently._

_Her body was shorter, softer, curves he didn't remember pressed against him._

_She was...changing. _

_The shoulder of his shirt was wet with her tears, he could feel her shake against him as she sobbed._

_This wasn't like her, to be so open about her feelings._

_She'd only cried once in front of him, the day she broke her arm when they were kids. He couldn't remember a single other time._

_He almost killed him to know he was hurting her._

_He pulled back, hesitantly, not wanting to let her go._

_Not wanting to face what he had to do, what he'd signed up for._

_He stared down at her, gasping as he met hazel eyes._

Jacob woke with a start, clutching empty air, the stranger's face etched onto the back of his eyelids.

He groaned as he shifted, the throbbing in his shoulder catching his attention.

He glanced around as he raised his good arm to his shoulder, running his fingers over the bandage. He didn't remember anything, except her face.

"Ah, I see you're finally awake, or are you fooling me this time?" A woman with a crop cut walked between the curtains, a chart in her hand. She didn't smile.

He recognized her as the base Doctor, Doctor Marie Hernandez. He hadn't really seen her before, he hadn't needed to.

He stared at her, nodding his head.

"Gave us quite a scare. You lost a lot of blood. I think your unit got to you just in time. We had to remove the bullet and stitch you back up. You've been in and out of consciousness for 8 days. I think your body was catching up for the lack of sleep, on top of the stress of the trauma. No one else was hurt when they went in to rescue you, luckily, but that is for your Sergeant to talk to you about, not me." She finally smiled, but the light never reached her eyes, "There is water on the table beside you, and if you need me, or a nurse, we make rounds every hour, or you can give a holler. You also have a visitor, already. You've been pretty popular while you were recovering."

The doctor left, and Jacob leaned back against his pillows. Great.

"I see Sleeping Beauty is awake." Sergeant Willis pushed the curtain back, a tight smile on his thin lips. He pulled the curtains open before taking a seat on the lone metal chair next to Jacob's bed, staring at him, "You did good out there, you always do good out there, Corporal."

Jacob nodded in acknowledge, looking away from Sergeant Willis, his arm limp at his side, the pain not dissolving.

"You disobeyed direct orders, Corporal, and you got yourself shot. You went in without back up, on a mission that was postponed, and you succeeded, single handedly. Yes, I am proud of you, and the work you did out there, son, but you got yourself shot. You risked your unit, when they came and saved your ass. I don't know how the elusive Corporal Black was shot, but I don't want it to happen again. Do you understand?" The Sergeant stared at Jacob, and Jacob stared back, never looking away.

"Yes sir." He said, his voice strong.

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same page. Now that that's cleared up, your orders are to stay here until you're healed, I'm sure Doc Marie will take good care of you. When you're out of here, we will talk about a possible R&R." Sergeant Willis stood from the chair, leaving without another word.

Jacob rolled his eyes once the Sergeant was out of his sight. He was glad that was the only lecture he was going to get.

"How's the shoulder?" Lewis appeared like a ghost, a large box in his hands. He took a seat in the chair, sitting the box on the floor.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Jacob's tone was short, Lewis held his hands up in defeat, a grin on his lips.

Jacob scowled, rolling his eyes. Lewis was always happy, no matter the situation.

"Just askin', my man. You've been in and out for over a week, dude, the doc wasn't sure when you were gonna officially come to. She's had you floating up in the clouds with the pain medication she was giving you. You got pretty lucky, she says, if that bullet had strayed even the slightest…I don't want to think about it. Nobody does. We're just glad you're away, man. Anyway, I came to drop this off for you, came with the mail. It's from a lady, I didn't know you had any other lady friends besides your sister and that Bella chick." Lewis looked at him curiously, and Jacob stared back incredulously.

"Hand me the damn box, Lewis." Jacob sighed, he was certainly the same, even after getting shot.

Lewis grinned wider as he picked the box up, passing it to Jacob.

He read the return address, staring at the name for a moment.

_Ms. Olivia Patavonio_

He had no idea who this woman was.

"Mind giving me a hand?" He said, pointing at the tape.

"Oh, right!" Lewis pulled a pocket knife out, slicing through the tape. He was more anxious than Jake.

Jacob pulled the flaps of the box apart, looking past the items. There was a letter in an envelope, his name in elegant scroll on the front. He snatched it, ripping it open with his good hand.

He yanked the letter out, unfolding it, a picture falling out. He laid the letter down on his lap, grabbing the picture.

It was the girl in his dream.

His mouth went dry.

He dropped it incredulously, grabbing the letter again, his eyes devouring her words quickly.

_Dear Jacob, September 25th, 2012_

_My name is Olivia Patavonio, and I am a 19 year old American._

_Obviously. I don't know how to start these things. Was that too cheesy? Oh well._

_You don't know me, but I really wish you did. For various reasons of course, but mostly because I know you're pretty alone over there and can use all the friends you can get. _

_I'm sending you a care package, and if you're reading this, you got it. Yay, the postal service doesn't suck completely! I hope you enjoy it, and it brings you happiness. I hope you know somebody's thinking about you, even if it's somebody you don't know, like me. We think about you, I think about you, that's why I'm writing this, that's why I'm sending you this._

_Thank you, for doing whatever it is you do, wherever it is you are. Thank you, for defending our country, for putting your life on the line for mine, and so many others. Thank you, I can't explain to you what it means to me. You have so much courage, and it brings me a feeling of honor to be able to write this letter to you._

_My father too was a Marine, so my freedom means more to me than it does most. I thank God for it. I also have you and thousands of other soldiers to thank for that. I hope that you're not the only Marine or solider that gets a care package this year. If I had my way, all of you would get one. If I had my way, all of you would be home with your families._

_A lot of people don't understand what it's like for you, but I like to think I do._

_I'm here, Jake, if you ever need somebody, even if you don't know me. Always remember that, if you're ever feeling down, or you're having a bad day, just remember me, Livvi, over here across that huge ocean, a million miles and several hours behind, because I'll be thinking about you, wondering if maybe you're thinking about me._

_I hope you enjoy your care package. Have wonderful holidays. Please, stay safe. My thoughts and prayers are with you, and your family._

_Always,_

_Livvi_


	4. Chapter 4: First Letters

**So, here is chapter 4.**

**Finally.**

**Next chapter is all new and a lot less boring, I promise.**

**Working on later chapters, I have realized there are a lot of filler chapters until it gets more exciting, for that, I am sorry.**

**Please stick around and understand that we will get to A LOT more Jacob-y goodness and some angst and even some fluff! **

**I'm also trying REALLY hard to make these long! I am pushing myself to have at least 2,000 words per chapter (in later chapters, LOL), because I want this story to be the best it can be!**

**Big thanks to RealMcCoy17, SheWolfMedjai and SerenityAngels for reviewing. It really means a lot.**

**Thank you so much for reading and please, enjoy.**

**xx**

* * *

I flipped through my father's e-mails, bored. They all said the same jargon that I didn't get, nor did I care to learn.

His business wasn't something I was interested in.

"You haven't had a break since you got here, Livvi. I wish you would take a break," My father said, and I jumped slightly, shaking my head.

"When I'm in the zone dad, I'm in the zone. I was in the zone…until you rudely interrupted me." I grinned, looking away from the computer, noticing he had two cups of coffee, "If I remember correctly, I could have got you a cup of coffee, I don't have a problem with that. You try and sneak extra sugar and cream into your own, anyway."

My father grinned, extending a cup toward me, "No extra cream or sugar, scout's honor. How was school today?"

"Tedious, as always. The only enjoyable days are when I learn something…I grow tired of reviewing, that's all it seems to be lately with finals on the horizon. I guess think they professors are teaching the other kids something, but I get to stare at them blankly. It rather annoys them." I laughed lightly, taking a sip of my coffee, sitting it down on my desk, "How's work, daddy?"

He leaned on the edge of my desk, shrugging, "I'm working with a nice woman, to remodel her kitchen. I think you'd like her, I'd like you to meet her."

I stared at my father for a moment. His eyes were light, his smile was a little wider then it had been in quite awhile.

A grin spread across my lips, "Oh. My. God. Daddy, you like her!"

A blush spread up his cheeks and he shook his head, looking away from me, "Now Olivia, I am a professional. All I meant was you two seem to have a lot in common. Cooking for instance, that is an obvious interest in common. She also enjoys music, that artist you like so much, Adele I think it is. Is that how you say her name? The one that sings the song about rolling in the deep? Anyway, you also both also like literature." My father still wasn't looking at me and the blush was redder than before.

"Daddy, it's okay. Really. I'm a grown woman and you don't have to explain a possibly girlfriend to me! I'm rather surprised you never had a girlfriend before now or maybe you're just hiding them from me."

My father laughed, shaking his head as he pushed himself off the desk, walking into his office, still chuckling.

I smiled, picking up my cup of coffee again, taking a sip as I turned my attention back to the e-mails.

I read through what seemed like hundreds, finally stopping when the phone on my desk rang.

"Patavonio Incorporated," I answered, almost robotically. This response was drilled into my head, and I'd even answered my cell phone this way a few times. The kids I helped tutor got a kick out of that.

"Hello, my name is Iris Taring and I was wondering who I would have to speak to about donating to Gift's for G.I.'s." The woman's voice was sugary, so sweet it made my head start to throb.

My stomach turned as I remembered the dream from a few weeks ago. I almost dry heaved.

"Um, I can give to a phone number to reach someone that can better help you. This is the number for David Patavonio's architecture firm, not his non-profit organization. Do you have a pen handy?" I sighed, trying not to be short or sarcastic. I failed at people skills sometimes.

"Sure, what is it?" She asked, still polite. I had to gasp for air to calm my nerves.

I rattled off the number, hanging up without even saying goodbye. Yep, it is safe to say that I really suck at people skills.

"Who was that?" My father was lurking in the door frame of his office, coffee mug in hand. His brows were furrowed, he looked worried. I had no idea why.

"Some woman calling to get in touch with Gift's for G.I.'s. There seems to be an outpouring of support this year." I smiled, happy about that. I glanced back at my computer screen, realizing I'd lost focus, "I'm gonna go grab a bite, dad. Do you want anything?"

I stood up from my desk, grabbing my coat as he shook his head, forcing a smile, "No thanks, darling. Drive safe."

I walked toward the elevator, smiling at Elise and Tony, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket.

No missed calls. Not that there was any surprise there, I had a shitty social life.

I called for an elevator, checking my e-mail.

There weren't any. After all this time, you'd think I was used to it, but I wasn't it. It kind of stung.

My eyebrows furrowed as I realized it was a Friday and my plans were to stay in and watch some TV, or read, after eating dinner. I felt like a middle-aged woman, with no mark on the world.

It really sucked sometimes.

I stepped onto the elevator after the doors opened, pressing L, leaning my head against the wall.

I closed my eyes and my mind wondered to thoughts of Jacob. I suddenly felt silly for worrying about not having friends or social life. He was fighting a war and didn't have the time for friends or a very active social life, I doubted he was complaining.

I'd sent my care package two weeks ago, which was a little early, well, a month early to be exact. Sometimes the soldiers didn't get the care packages for over a month, I hoped that was the case.

The elevator eased to a stop, and the doors opened, along with my eyes.

My head was squared back on my shoulders and I felt a little better.

I called my dad and told him I wouldn't be coming in for the rest of the day, he said it was fine.

Of course it was fine. It always was.

I smiled as I got off the phone, driving home instead of to the little bistro on the corner.

I felt a little lighter as I blared I Love College by Asher Roth, wondering what it would be like to live on campus and have a social life…I realized I wasn't really missing much. I'd stick to the songs and studying.

I parked my car in the driveway, walking toward the mailbox.

I pulled the mail out, flipping through it quickly as I walked toward the front door.

I stopped in mid-step, all the mail falling from my grasp except for one lone envelope, addressed to me, from Jacob Black.

I stared at the envelope for a moment, blinking.

Nope, it was certainly addressed to me from Jacob Black.

I gathered the mail that I had dropped and unlocked the door hurriedly, tossing my keys and messenger bag onto the couch, jogging up the stairs.

I sat down on my bed after I kicked my shoes off, turning the letter over in my hands, rubbing a bit of sand off of the corner.

Why was I so nervous about a letter?

I couldn't understand why my heart was racing or why I was so excited.

All it probably said was simple thanks and that was all.

_At least it's more than nothing, be grateful Olivia._

I scowled at my conscience, squashing it down into nothing.

Stupid internal voice, suck it.

I sighed as I tore open the envelope neatly, which meant as slowly as possible.

I unfolded the letter, a photo falling face down onto my comforter.

I picked it up, flipping it over, my heart rate quickening.

My throat went dry as I memorized a face I felt I'd seen a million times. In the picture, was a man, with cooper skin and russet eyes.

Was it possible?

I ran my finger over the photo, finally putting it down.

I took a breath, turning to the letter.

_Livvi,_

_Your opening wasn't cheesy at all, it was nice to know a little about you. It certainly was wonderful to hear from you, your care package was the best. I've never actually gotten one before, so it means a lot, especially since it's from a stranger. Not many people thank me, so you don't have to thank me, either, but it's very thoughtful of you._

_I'm not sure what to say right now, I'm at a loss for words and I think I've forgotten how to talk (well, write in this case) to a beautiful woman._

_Tell me about you, I'd like to know more about you, besides the fact your father was a marine, too, and that you're very thankful._

_Are you in school? Any favorite musicians? Do you like to cook?_

_Tell me anything you want to share._

_It's hard to get away from here, even in my mind, so hearing about something else would be nice._

_I sent a picture of myself, wasn't sure if you wanted it, but you sent me one…so I returned the favor._

_Thank you for the care package, like I said, it was the best. Sorry to cut this short…I promise my next letter will be longer._

_Thinking of you, over here, a million miles away,_

_Jake_

I smiled as I refolded the letter, putting it back into the envelope. I walked over to my desk, stashing the envelope away in the top drawer, clipping Jake's picture to my mini-bulletin board, a splash of colour among the bland reminders.

I grabbed a piece of paper, settling into the chair to respond, still smiling.


	5. Chapter 5: Easy like Sunday morning

**Phew, yay for a little bit of Jacob's point-of-view.**

**Can I get a whoop, whoop?**

**Probably not. Oh well. Lol.**

**Big thanks to SerenityAngels and Gemini girl 96 for reviewing. **

**Please note, in the next few chapters there is a little bit of time jumping. I'm not going to write a bunch of fillers to get to the good stuff.**

**That is all.**

**Enjoy.**

**xx**

* * *

The air was dry and dusty as Jacob emerged from his barracks, which wasn't unusual for Kuwait.

Kuwait was a large city, one he would never grow accustomed to, so he often stayed on Camp Arifjan in his free time, much like that early Sunday afternoon.

He was dressed in a white shirt and khaki slacks, along with a fresh bandage on his shoulder. He groaned as a slight throb of pain reminded him of the healing hole in his shoulder.

It'd been almost a week since he'd gotten released for light duty and he was hoping he could get back to full duty soon, unless his sergeant pressed for an R&R due to the circumstances.

The Bazaar was in full swing and Jake almost felt normal as he walked through the little booths, munching on some _kleichas_ he's picked up from Hakeem, one of the young translators from the base that brought baked goods to sell on Sundays.

Jacob kept stopping, picking up little trinkets and jewelry, taking in the details, looking for something special to send Olivia.

_Livvi_

His throat went dry as he thought of the woman in the picture and her letter.

Correction, letters.

She'd wrote again and he smiled fondly, thinking for the words he'd memorized due to re-reading her letters.

_Dear Jake, November 3, 2012_

_Thanks for responding, I honestly didn't expect you to, but it means a lot to me that you did. Now that all that's out of the way, maybe our letters will actually be letters! _

_How are you? I'm alright, it's a Friday afternoon here. I've just been working at my father's architecture firm today, there's no school for me on Friday's. _

_I'm a sophomore at Johnson and Wales, have you heard of it? I'm majoring in culinary arts with a minor business. They have four campuses, but I'd prefer to stick closer to home, which is here in Miami. Funny, you asked if I liked to cook, I more than like it…I love it. I want to make a career of it. Opening my own restaurant is a dream of mine that I will make it happen._

_As for musicians, I love all kinds of music. Don't laugh, but Adele is one of my favourites. Just to name a few others for good measure, I love The Rolling Stones, Sugarcult, Taylor Swift, Lupe Fiasco, Imagine Dragons and Coldplay. I could really sit here all day and go on about all the artists I love, but I won't bore you with the details of my current playlists. Unless of course...you want me to. I can send you a playlist sometime if you'd like. Just kidding, you'd laugh yourself silly. _

_I'm trying to think of things to tell you about me, but sitting here, thinking about it, I'm pretty boring. Sometimes, I feel completely uninteresting. My days consist of studying, reading e-mails about architecture business that reads like this: "Dear Mr. Patavino, BLAH BLAH BLAH!" (Can you tell how much I LOVE my job?), volunteering and at the end of the day, I come home to cook. Luckily, I have a dishwasher so at least I don't have to worry about dishes._

_I don't really have any hobbies or friends._

_I like reading and cooking, I really do think that is about it. I assure you, I'm 19 and not 40, even though with the above paragraph, you probably think I'm 40. Ugh._

_Kathy Reichs writes a pretty good forensic mystery. Have you heard of the T.V. show Bones? The lead character that is referred to as 'Bones' is based off of her character, Temperance Brennan. The books however, are much better._

_I like fireworks, if that counts for telling you something about myself. I like the smell of the ocean in the early morning, sometimes I walk down the beach before the sunrises just for that. I prefer sunrises to sunsets, sunflowers to roses, savory to sweet. I like when people smile and I try to draw it out onto paper, but I really can't. I like musicals, but I haven't caught one in awhile._

_There, I told you a little about me and some of the things I like and enjoy._

_Tell me about you, do you want to go to college? Do you like cooking? Any favorite authors? What about music?_

_Thank you for the picture, it's nice to put a face with the name. You're pretty handsome yourself, Mr. Black._

_I guess I'll stop here, I feel as if I'm rambling on. Hope to hear from you soon, Jake._

_Je ne peux pas cesser de penser à vous,_

_Livvi_

_PS: My e-mail is BolognaSandwhichesAreGross . Yes, that is my legitimate e-mail. I was 13. Stop laughing. You can use it to get in touch with me faster, but I do like letters... _

She seemed so genuine and unlike anyone he'd ever met. Well, he hadn't met her, but still.

And funny, that was for sure.

Gorgeous, as well.

He could keep going...

Jacob stopped at a booth, glancing around at the packed shelves, his eyes landing on a section of simple jewelry.

There were necklaces, bracelets and rings, all beautiful and unique.

One caught his eye, a bangle bracelet with gold flower and a swirl detailed, inscribed in the center with Arabic writing he couldn't read. He picked it up from the bracelet stand, wrapping his fingers around the cool silver. He ran his thumb over the inscription and detailing, turning it over in his hand.

It would probably cost a fortune and he didn't care, it was perfect.

He smiled at the vendor, glancing back at the display of jewelry one last time.

Another piece of jewelry stood out to him, a simple silver box chain. He could see a charm hanging on the end, a charm he'd carved before he was released for light duty. It hadn't been easy, but it had come out pretty good under the circumstance.

It had been a simple flower, an orchid to be exact, carved while he was thinking of Livvi. He felt it was only right he gave it to her, instead of leaving it in his drawer, stuffed in a sock. Besides, it might impress her.

He grinned, a familiar, goofy grin that had been missing from his face for so long, approaching the tiny elderly woman that had been watching him while he'd browsed.

He asked her in his broken Arabic how much the pieces would cost.

She watched him for a moment longer, her face remained slightly stern, but a smile spread across her lips, "Is it for a فتاة?"

Jacob nodded sheepishly, a blush creeping across his face.

The woman cut him a good deal and packaged the jewelry, telling him to stop by again. He left with his head held high, the grin still on his face.

He walked a little longer, picking up some small things for his dad, Rachel and Rebecca. The holidays were approaching much quicker then he realized; he had to get them all something.

Jacob turned back toward the camp after glancing at the time, releasing it was already 5 and he'd agreed to meet up with Lewis for a slice at the pizza restaurant.

He walked into the Pizza Inn, which was crowded as always. He tucked the jewelry into his pocket as he spotted Lewis waiting for him at a table.

Lewis nodded in acknowledgment as Jake sat down, taking a sip from his glass.

"Buy that pretty girl somethin' nice?" Josh asked, his southern roots evident, as he plopped down next to Jake, a cup in hand.

Jake rolled his eyes as he picked up the menu, looking at Lewis, "Do you know what we're getting?"

Lewis smiled, looking at Josh, "She was pretty hot. I hope someone like her sends me a care package. What do her letters say anyway?"

Jacob shook his head, "She says thanks for being a Marine, douche, so shut up. So, what are we ordering?"

Lewis raised his eyebrows suggestively, "Sure seems like that's all she said with that attitude, bro, I was just asking. Just trying to make conversation about your life and your new penpal."

"I'm going to have a large pepperoni pizza and a Coke, that sounds pretty good right about now." Jacob said, turning the conversation away from Livvi.

"Ya'll seen that new infantry officer from Romania? She was pretty hot." Josh nodded as he waved for a server, "Her name's Camellia I think, she was giving me the eye."

Lewis and Jacob both shook their heads, "Oh yes, every girl here gives you the eye, Josh." Lewis chuckled and Jake nodded in agreement, sitting back in his seat, enjoying his dinner with friends.

The night passed quickly as they joked, devouring their pizzas and ordering more food than they should have.

They walked back to the barracks, everyone going into the common areas except Jacob.

"I'll catch you guys later." Jake said, heading into his room.

"Sure you will, tell that pretty little thing we said hello." Josh winked.

He rolled his eyes as he pulled his dusty laptop from under his bunk, opening it.

He couldn't even remember the last time he had turned this thing on. It was clunky and ancient, but did it's job.

It booted up quickly and he entered his password, waiting for it to connect to the internet.

The internet lagged slightly as he tried to log into his e-mail, but he was accustomed to that. He didn't bother scrolling through his e-mails, he just hit compose e-mail and laughed as he typed in Livvi's silly address.

He stared at the cursor, unsure of what to say, but he wanted to say something. He'd already wrote her letter and that would be going in the box tomorrow morning, along with her gifts, but he wanted to hear from her sooner rather than later.

He started to type slowly, ignoring the slight throb in his shoulder.


End file.
